


It’s A Cold Day In My Heart

by hit_the_books



Series: Blood and Gold [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternative Werewolf Lore, Angst, Car Sex, F/M, Mark of Cain, Multi, Original Character(s), Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 19:24:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4112230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This part takes place between season 9 episodes “Blade Runners” and “Mother’s Little Helper”.</p><p>In the final part of Blood and Gold, Sam and Dean head out with you to stop a terrible part of your past from taking more lives.</p><p>But will you stand by the choices you make or refuse to accept what's happening?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Road So Far...

**Author's Note:**

> For those wondering: the first chapter has all the smut in this final part. It's plot the rest of the way.

"You think I'm some stupid, demon cock sucking, dumb ass witch?! Screw the both of you!"  
-  
“Okay, you've got problems, issues. We've all got them, some of us... have caused them. But, Sam, unless we stick together, unless we help each other... We've got nothing.”  
-  
“I want this, us, to work. So let’s stop fighting. I get it: you’re not some doll. Please, Y/N.”  
-  
“Well no, if you must know. I’m not sure if I’m ready for polygamous relationships. But I don’t want to find out today - can you respect that?”  
-  
“And I’ve become curious again, since then… But open relationships are hard work. And I’ve never been with two brothers at the same time. Two brothers who are currently pretending that they’re not brothers.”  
-  
“Do Squirrel and Moose know you’re out playing with me?”

“No.”  
-  
“I have been cooped up in this place for over a day and I am sick of watching Star Wars films. Surely it’ll be fine if you’re with me?”  
-  
“I feel like part of me is slowly being shredded through the eye of a needle.”  
-  
“No, not until I figure out what kind of monster you are.”  
-  
“Soulless me would have run off here without thinking about backup, determined to succeed any old way… But once I went back to the Bunker for what I needed and some of my things… I went through our rooms and…”

“And you knew.”  
-  
“HE WHAT?! FUCK! Okay, where was that……. U-huh and was spotted near where after… right… Okay, sure. we’ll handle it, that’s just two hours away. Thanks Jody, thanks.”

*

Now.

You’re getting closer to the city of Salina. It’s early evening. Dean is driving your Chevy, because Baby hasn’t recovered yet. Sam is sat on the back seat with you, his right arm around your shoulders. You’re shaking, but you can’t stop it. Can’t stop. Jody had emailed over crime scene photos of the diner Simon had visited and they were all you saw when you closed your eyes. You couldn’t stop seeing the blood. The broken bones the-

“Hey, Y/N,” says Sam, “it’ll be fine. We’ll fix this.”

But how could you fix the nine lives that Simon had taken since Dallas?

Your eyes fall on the corner of your alchemy chest, hiding under the front seat. The chest that still contains a cure. You’d made a fucking cure for werewolves and no one was buying. You’d tortured angels and demons (and killed the latter), fucked over your best friend, been unbelievably horrid as a girlfriend to Sam and Dean: and for what?

Simon hadn’t wanted his medicine. And now you were going to kill him. The whole situation is fucked and you know this.

“Sam, I don’t want to kill Simon. I don’t, but…”

“Sssh,” Sam strokes your hair. “It’s going to be fine.”

“Can you stop saying that, please?”

“What would you rather have me say?”

You have to think about this, but with all the guilt that’s been churning away in you since you got your soul back, you know how you want to feel once this is all dead and buried. Literally, dead and buried.

“That if I kill Simon tonight, it won’t make be a bad person.”

Sam dimples his face. “Killing Simon will not make you a bad person.”

Dean looks at the two of you in the rearview mirror. “Seriously, Y/N, he’s had more chances than most.”

You stay silent at that and shift awkwardly on the seat, deciding eventually to lean on Sam. No one had a chance to shower before you left the Bunker and everyone still smells of sex and need. Of course you notice this more than the guys, but it’s confusing as your heart feels torn all over the place.

But as your head lays on Sam, you feel desperate for any comfort and you find yourself turning your face up towards Sam’s. You need more than just contact. You want to feel better now, before you break. Feel alive.

“Y/N…” Sam moans lowly as your mouth begins to trace kisses along one side of his jaw.

You pull yourself towards Sam, keeping your balance as the Chevy continues along the road. Finding Sam’s mouth, you push it open with your own and your tongues meet.

“Come on, guys, I’m trying to drive here!” Dean half complains.

You pull away from your kiss with Sam, and Sam looks at his brother in the mirror.

“Then keep driving,” Sam growls before putting his hands on your face and pulling your mouth to his again.

It’s a slow build. You gasp away for air every so often. You shift your right hand and it brushes against Sam’s crotch - you feel his rock hard erection straining inside his jeans. Pulling away from his kisses, you look around the car and the moving landscape outside. The car passes a sign stating that Salina is forty miles away and you calm your breathing.

Sam looks at you, his pupils blown. “Y/N?”

Dean looks at at the two of you in the mirror. “Hey, if you’re about to do what I think you are-”

“It’s not your car,” you state simply as you start opening Sam’s flies for him.

Sam shifts so you can pull his jeans down and then you bend towards his hard dick and trace its length with your tongue. And you’re glad right now that the road is straight as you bring Sam’s dick into your mouth and fit in as much as you can, your hands at its base, quickly finding a rhythm that fits your mood: fast and intense.

“Fuck,Y/N,” Sam moans, gently grabbing your hair with one hand. “Fuck…”

Listening to Sam’s moans and tasting him, you feel yourself getting wetter and slicker, the heat building inside of you. Giving Sam one last lick, tasting precome, you bring your head up and look Sam in the eyes. Your eyes beg him and he nods, reaching over and helping you out of your combats and panties as Dean keeps throwing looks at the two of you via the mirror.

“Fuck,” Dean groans as Sam begins to ease you over his lap and lets you slowly shift down and engulf his cock in your sopping pussy, your knees bumping into the back of the seat. You wrap your arms around him and begin to push yourself up and down, his massive hands gripping your butt cheeks, helping you.

“Here we are, heading to kill a murderous werewolf, who’s your ex, and the two of you are… Christ,” mutters Dean, but you’re hardly aware of him as you fuck Sam. “I really hope we don’t meet anyone else on this road.”

“Just… want… to… feel… close,” you pant as you bounce on Sam, feeling better each time you press down onto him.

“I… know…” Sam pants back, nipping at your collarbone and jaw. His hands feel so reassuring and good as they help to guide you up and down, clutching at you just right. You begin to nuzzle his hair, hardly breathing as you push and pull yourself on his cock, feeling the pressure build inside you.

And then you clench around Sam and spiral inside, moaning and groaning into his hair, driving him over the edge and you feel him spill into you as you ride out your orgasm.

“Fuck,” groans Dean with an audible pang of horniess.

You move away from Sam’s hair and pepper his face with kisses. “I love you, Sam.”

“Love you too, Y/N.”

Finally, you climb off of Sam, just before the road begins to take a large bend and you wait to reach down for your discarded clothes. Once the car is going straight again, you dress and cuddle up to Sam.

You notice Dean looking at the two of you via the rearview mirror. “What?” You ask.

“I’m gonna need some attention too, once this is done. Just so you know,” replies Dean.

“I’ll think about it,” you reply and then stick your tongue out at him.

“You’re so mean,” Dean half pouts as your red Chevy reaches the outskirts of Salina.


	2. Blood Dribbles Are Gross

Sam had called ahead to the butchers and promised a large wad of cash if someone sourced some really fresh pig’s blood and stayed on late to trade it with them. Now as he took the paper bag concealed jar of blood from the butcher and handed the cash that Y/N had given him, Sam knew he wasn’t going to enjoy what he would see next.

Returning to the Chevy, parked on a side street, he handed the blood to Y/N and watched (he couldn’t help it), his stomach churning a little, as she opened the jar and put some Gotu Kola in the blood, before closing the jar, shaking it, opening it once more and drinking the blood all down in one go. Blood dribbled along both corners of Y/N’s mouth and Sam felt a shiver run through him. It just looked disgusting. There was no other way to describe it, the woman he’d been fucked by just forty-five minutes ago could look as beautiful as she damn well wanted, but she’d always look gross when drinking pig’s blood.

It was about seven in the evening now. Dean moved the Chevy three blocks and parked up. The last murder scene was nearby and the best chance they had of picking up Simon’s trail. Fake IDs at the ready, Sam led the three of them to the taped off crime scene, a gas station. Forensics were done with the place and the one, sleepy, cop keeping an eye on things waved them through with their FBI badges, no questions asked.

They entered the gas station store and even Sam could smell the blood that hadn’t been cleaned up yet. Walking gingerly between some shelves, they found where one victim had been killed, the pool of blood too large. Sam felt himself instinctively reaching for the silver bullet loaded Taurus PT92AFS that was resting in the back of his jeans.

“You getting anything?” Dean asked as he bent down and studied the pool of blood.

Sam turned to Y/N as she worked her nose. The little scrunches her nose made as she sniffed around the store were ridiculously cute.

“I think I’ve got him again.”

Sam and Dean followed Y/N closely as she left back out the front door and past the sleepy cop. They reached the side of the street and Y/N pointed.

“That way.”

“Here,” Dean said, passing Sam the car keys, “you can get the Chevy. We’ll wait.”

Sam rolled his eyes and walked back to the car. There were a few people walking the streets that evening, but most looked nervous and quiet, the news of what had happened in the gas station had obviously left the locals on edge, not that they knew it was a werewolf.

It didn’t take long to rejoin the other two, and Sam kept the car trailing at about 5mph as Y/N briskly led the way with Dean at her side. Salina was almost dead, though they appeared to be heading out to the outskirts, with fewer and fewer businesses and homes crowding the sides of the road.

“We’re getting closer,” Y/N piped up as they turned a corner and then she stopped. Sam pulled the Chevy over as Y/N took in huge lungfuls of air and then pointed.

“There, in that abandoned mall.” Sam looked over to where Y/N was pointing and saw the empty parking spaces and decrepit concrete hulk that had been all fenced off.

“You’re sure?” Dean asked.

“Quite sure.”

Sam parked the Chevy up and the three of them crowded around it as they made sure they were all tooled up. Sam saw Y/N put several knockout pouches in her combats.

“What if you accidentally use one of those on us?” Sam eyed a fourth bag making its way into Y/N’s combats.

“Then you better not be breathing when I throw one.”

Gently, Sam pulled Y/N away from Dean and the Chevy, and whispered in her ear. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I understand that this probably quite tough for you right now.”

“Sam, I need to do this.”

*

The mall must have been abandoned during the crash. But someone still had a vested interest in it, because the outer fencing had been pretty tough to get through and they’d had to disable several security cameras on the way in. No one was being given the chance to sleep rough there, at least not now.  
And then they had split up, after Y/N had noted with disdain that Simon’s scent was all over the place and too varied to effectively track unless they were almost on top of him.

  
Even though Y/N had wandered off with her own flashlight, handgun and several silver blades, and was the one least likely to suffer any permanent damage while in the hulking structure around them - Sam couldn’t stop worrying about her.

Y/N was near indestructible and Sam kept worrying about her more than himself. ‘But she can be hurt in other ways,’ Sam thought, feeling a sense of guilt at remembering how he’d not realised that Y/N had lost her soul. The anger he’d felt at being told by Crowley, of all people, that he’d missed the simple fact that Y/N had been minus that which made Y/N herself.

Sam liked how Y/N was, now that she was whole again. And he just didn’t want anything to take that away. Harriet had come close, but now as he turned into what may have been a sporting goods store before the mall went bust, Sam realised that he really, really wanted Y/N to stay with him and Dean. Sure, they were unconventional, but Sam appreciated that Y/N help bring them a little closer together during a shitty time.

Then again, maybe Sam should have saved his introspection for outside, as a something hit him in the side and darkness engulfed him.


	3. Close

Licking his lips, Dean carefully pushed through what had once been the food court, his breathing quiet as he strained his hearing for any sounds. But all he could hear was himself. A part of him couldn’t stop thinking at how otherworldly the mall looked, all musty and forgotten, paint peeling, metal struts rusting through. And here and there: scrawlings of graffiti that showed that at some point, someone had made it inside. It was like his trip to the future all over again, only this time he was pretty sure that he wasn’t going to run into a mob of Croatoan infected individuals.

Just a werewolf. A werewolf that had left a trail of bodies over the past few days.

But it was the trail of blood starting from a doorway and leading away from it that left a grimace on Dean’s face. He bent down and put a finger to the trail. It was still a little wet. Simon had taken another victim.

“Damnit,” Dean muttered as he trained his flashlight and gun in front of him as he followed the trail of blood deeper into the remains of the mall.

The darkness pressed in and his torch was an island in the empty concrete expanse. He’d killed plenty of werewolves before, but this was feeling different. His heart was hammering in his chest and he could feel himself sweating a little as a primal instinct of fear started kicking up.

He sense movement to his right and without thinking fired his gun, the shot sickeningly echoing through the dead mall’s expanse.

“FUCK!” Screamed Y/N, Dean’s stomach felt icy and he rushed to her side.

“I’m so sorry, so fucking sorry!” Dean apologised again and again as he knelt beside Y/N, her torch and gun on the floor beside her. She was kneeling on the dust covered mall floor, her left fingers buried in her right shoulder as she dug out the silver bullet Dean had fired into her.

“It’s fine Dean, at least you shot me and not Sam,” Y/N said through gritted teeth as she began to ease the bullet out of her shoulder. She was covered in blood and Dean was worried to touch it, after hearing what had happened to the vampires the other night.

“Y/N-”

“No, Dean, it’s fine. I’ve got it, just don’t touch me. I may still be a little… toxic.” Y/N grimaced and the flattened bullet finally came out in her fingers. There was blood dripping from the silver necklace that held Y/N’s Philosopher's Stone.

“Hell, Simon’s probably heard all of this now and run off,” Dean moaned standing as Y/N finally stood. She picked up her own gun and torchlight.

Dean watched as Y/N worked her nose. In the torchlight, he couldn’t see the colour drain from her face. “No, he’s still here… he’s… he’s got Sam!”

Y/N bolted in the direction of the blood trail and Dean hurried after her.

“The blood?” Dean asked as they navigated the crumbling concrete.

“Not Sam’s.”

Dean still couldn’t get over what he’d just done. “I’m so sorry for shooting you.”

“It’s fine, Dean, really. I’m fine. Through here.” Y/N led Dean under a security gate that had been partially raised.

They walked into a large store space, with two floors. Dean felt cold as he saw Sam sprawled out beside an unmoving escalator. There was no sign of Simon, but Dean knew it was a trap.

Dean and Y/N slowly walked towards Sam, their guns roving the skeleton of a store. “You know this is probably a trap,” Y/N whispered to Dean.

“Figured as much.”

They reached Sam’s prone body and Dean crouched down beside his brother, fighting a murderous rage that was slowly beginning to build, replacing his earlier fear. He checked him for bites, but couldn’t find anything.

“Hey, Y/N, is he…?” Dean asked standing up to cover Y/N as she bent over Sam and breathed in his scent.

“He’s not been bitten.”

Y/N stood back and Dean let her cover him as he tried to wake Sam up. He put a hand under his brother’s head and felt the stickiness of blood and a lump. “He’s been knocked out cold,” Dean whispered and then he heard the crunch of glass and he turned to point his gun in the same direction as Y/N who had tensed beside him.

“Y/N,” called a less than familiar voice.

“Simon?” Y/N called out, not moving her gun away from the figure approaching them from the dark.

“You didn’t turn.” Simon took a step closer. “You were bitten and yet, here you are… not like me. But-” Simon gave an audible sniff, “you’re not quite like these two assholes either.”

“That’s close enough, asshole.” Dean stood up.

“Simon…” Dean could hear the strain in Y/N’s voice, “I can cure you.”

Simon was now fully engulfed in their torchlight and Dean could see the werewolf shaking his head in disbelief. “There is no cure,” said Simon.

“Yes there is. That pal of yours you ripped apart in Dallas had been cured,” Dean spoke up. He wished Y/N could use one of her knockout pouches, but with the possibility of Sam in his present state inhaling that crap, Dean was glad that Y/N wasn’t taking the easy way out.

“Bullshit. You call that cured… he was so… weak and needy and…”

“And human,” Y/N replied. “He was too human for you. But Simon, wasn’t that what you wanted when you killed my grandfather. You wanted a cure then, why deny this now?”

Dean saw Simon’s muscles curl up. He was getting ready to attack them. There was no way he would ever let them fix him, no way-

“Simon, I have a cure.”

“No, no, no, no, no…” Simon muttered to himself. “NO!” The werewolf screamed and charged, transforming as he ran towards the three of them.

BANG!

The muzzle flare joined with the torchlight.

BANG!

BANG!

Simon’s body fell forward and sprawled out on the dirt covered floor in front of them. Dean could see smoke trailing from the muzzle of Y/N’s gun. Then she slumped to the floor, leaned back on her heels and screamed.

“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!” Y/N’s voice flared. There was pain and regret. And Dean wanted to hold Y/N but he needed to help Sam-

“What’s with all the shouting?” Sam asked blearily from behind Dean.

“Hey!” Dean knelt beside Sam. “Don’t move too much, you’ve probably got a concussion.”

Y/N was sobbing in front of them.

“Y/N, we need to take Sam to a hospital,” Dean said loud enough that he could be heard over Y/N’s sobs.

Y/N stifled her cries and turned to Dean and Sam. “Okay… okay…”

Dean helped Sam up and they slowly walked out of the mall, Dean supporting Sam.


	4. Stubborn

You’re in a private room in the local hospital. You’re no longer covered in blood, but Sam is kinda out of it. Dean’s off dealing with Simon’s body before letting Jody know about the other body you found just before you all finally got out of the mall. You didn’t want Simon to be burned, you wanted him to be buried and so Dean’s off somewhere doing just that.

Sitting beside Sam’s bed, you can’t help replaying the look that you’d seen in Simon’s eyes before the first silver bullet had lodged in him. A glimpse of humanity from the man you’d re-remembered in a death vision. The man who’d made love to you in the back of his Volkswagen, while you gave him your virginity.

Sam stirs beside you.

“Hey,” Sam croaks. You look at him and find his eyes are a little unfocused. “Have I got a concussion?”

“Doctors say most certainly yes.” You close your right hand around Sam’s left. “I’m sorry Simon did that to you,” you reply, meaning every word.

“So long as he didn’t bite me, we’re good… He didn’t bite me, did he?”

You squeeze Sam’s hand. “No, you’re still you.”

“How long am I here for?”

“Looking like until later tomorrow.”

*

Dean was in with Sam, talking with him, when you slipped away saying that you needed to get some coffee. You were still filled with pig’s blood and you’d smelt the Reaper on the ward. Not that you knew then specifically that it was a Reaper, you just got general “angelic” scents heading into your nostrils that smelt different to cupids, other angels and Cas.

And you were desperate to do something about the regret that had settled on you, threatening to drag you down. You don’t feel like you’d given Simon enough of a chance and you knew… you knew where he’d gone. Sam’s journal had told you enough about Purgatory when you’d read it back in the Bunker, and the types of being who knew how to get in there… and the ritual for bringing someone back through.

Five minutes you’ve been tracking this angelic presence, when it takes a turn down a quiet hallway. You then follow it down, then find yourself pinned up against a wall. The vessel is a man, mid thirties, short black hair and brown eyes.

“Why are you following me?” The angel hisses.

“Are you a-” you breathe in the angel’s scent, sensing a hint of the grave, “Reaper?”

That catches the Reaper off guard and he lowers his arm. “How did you know?”

“You smell like one.”

“Smell?”

“Yes… Also, isn’t it kind of pointless being a reaper in a hospital at the moment, what with Heaven still sealed or do you like dumping souls into the Veil?”

The Reaper’s eyes grow wide. “How do y-”

“I know things. Listen, I was wondering if there was a way I could get into Purgatory.”

The Reaper presses you back up against the wall again. “You should not know these things,” hisses the Reaper.

“But I do. Can you help me get in and out of there or not?”

The Reaper eases up and gives you a pitying look. “Why, child, would you want to go to such a place?”

“To save a man.”

The Reaper frowns before asking, “Do you… love him?”

“No, but I can save him. It feels like the right thing to do.”

The Reaper’s eyes travel down you and catch a glimpse of the Philosopher’s Stone resting on your clothes. He pushes you back up against the wall. “You’re the o-”

“The one that may have, while soulless, tortured some of your brothers and sisters. Yes, I am she.”

“You wer-”

“Soulless. I’m me again and so not doing that anymore.” You fix the Reaper with what you hope is a penitent smile.

The Reaper eases his grip and slowly steps away from you. The being looks puzzled and you’re not surprised.

“You truly want to journey into Purgatory?”

“Yes. I want to do the right thing.”

“The right thing would be to leave him to his fate.”

You smile at the Reaper. “Not to be too immodest, but I am his fate.”

*

When you go back into Sam’s room, Dean is sat beside Sam’s bed. Sam is dozing.

“That was a long coffee,” Dean smirks as you close the door behind you.

“Yeah, it was.” You walk up to Dean and lick your lips. “Could we... cuddle?”

Dean gives you the biggest smile and opens his arms out to you. You pull yourself on to his lap and let him pull you close. You breathe through your mouth, so as to avoid smelling the taint that the Mark has left on him.

“The doctors say Sammy is gonna be just fine,” says Dean, his voice tender and sweet.

“Um, where’d you bury Simon?”

Dean sighs. “Beside a single tree, on the outskirts of some old farm that we passed just before hitting the city. The one that looked like it’d been struck by lightning.”

“Okay.”

You bury your face in Dean’s neck and a little sob escapes. Dean doesn’t say anything, he just reaches a hand up your back and begins to rub it. And your heart sinks a little. You’re not going to tell them anything. Not until they can’t do anything about it.

*

It’s just after 1am when you leave the hospital. You head for the Chevy in an outside parking lot and leave your phone beside the chest, with a note. You grab a rucksack, put a few alchemy pieces in it and stow some weapons on yourself, folding a crossbow into the bag and picking up some bolts, before locking the Chevy up for Dean to open with his set of keys later.

You head into the city on foot, to a bar the Reaper said to meet at. It’s closing time and the Reaper is waiting outside, your nose easily finding it in the streetlight gloom.

“Are you ready?” The Reaper motions to an alley beside the bar. You nod and follow it down into its dark depths.

You long ago etched Sam’s journal notes in your mind, along with about half the library in the Bunker. You hope you’ll see them again, but as the Reaper opens the portal, its words and motions foreign to you, you feel tears streaking down your face.

And you pray this isn’t goodbye.


	5. It’s A Little Hazy

Sam opened his eyes as Dean shook his shoulder gently.

“Sam, Sam!”

“What?” He blearily opened his eyes to the growing dawn light that was filtering through the window blinds. His head dully ached.

“Y/N is missing! I’ve tried looking everywhere, but she’s not picking up her phone and the Chevy is still in the parking lot.”

Sam pulled himself up into a sitting position. His heart racing. “When’d you last see her?”

“She went off to get some more coffee and she didn’t come back.”

Sam pulled his covers back and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll get dressed, you - you get me discharged and…”

The pain in his head flared and he felt more than a little woozy. “And… I’m not going anywhere,” Sam said, laying back down on the bed.

“Sam?”

“Dean, see if you can, I dunno, check the security footage for this ward and the main entrance and… and check the car again. I’m not going anywhere.”

Dean nodded and rushed out of the room. Sam settled back down onto his bed and tried to make the room stop spinning. He could feel his heart rate had gone up and he knew that was affecting the concussion.

Slowly, despite the icy feeling of panic in his stomach, Sam tried to control his breathing.

“Everything is going to be fine,” he murmured to himself. “She’s just sleeping on the backseat of the car and Dean couldn’t see her in the dark.”

But the icy feeling would not go away.

*

Over an hour later, Dean returns to Sam’s hospital room. Sam sees the grim look on Dean’s face.

“Found this under the front seat, beside the chest.” Dean puts Y/N’s cell down on a bedside table. There was a closed note held to it with a rubber band.

Picking up the cell, Sam carefully removed the note, opened it and read it out loud:

“Watch me. Keep me.” The handwriting was definitely Y/N’s.

Ignoring the dull ache in his head, Sam turned Y/N’s cell on and went to her videos. There was only one. Dean leaned in beside him.

“Shall I press play?” Sam asked, worried what they might see.

Dean nodded. Sam touched the cell’s screen and held it horizontally.

The video played and showed Y/N, sitting down in a random, empty patient room. Her face glistened in the harsh light.

“Hi Sam, hi Dean. If you’re watching this: then that means I’m gone. And I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone for. But I need you to understand something first: I believe that I am doing the right thing.

“And the right thing is curing Simon… the right thing is following his sorry ass into Purgatory, bringing him out, just like Sam described in his journal when he rescued Bobby, and then curing him once he’s back in his body.”

Dean swore. Sam felt a tear slide down his right cheek, but he did nothing to wipe it away as the video played on.

“So you’re probably worried about me, I get that. Well, I’m pretty, uh, toxic at the moment and I’ve found that I can change pretty much any liquid into Elixir if I really concentrate on it. The plan is to be least appetizing meal on the menu while I’m looking for Simon.

“Don’t worry about me dying, it’s not going to happen. And if Simon denies what I’m offering him for a third time, then I’ll leave him be and head back by myself. Though if he does agree, there’s a chance I’ll be bringing a werewolf back to the Bunker as that’s there where the main store of the cure is at the moment.

“But don’t think for one second that this means that I no longer love either of you. I’m doing this out of a sense of duty, because I can do something. I- I…”

Y/N began to visibly cry and Sam found himself wiping away his own tears as Y/N wiped away her own.

“I love the two of you more than anyone I have ever known in my life. And I am so grateful for the affection, help and time the two of you have given me. I need you two to realise and understand this. And understand that I couldn’t ask you to risk yourselves for this.”

Y/N wiped a few more tears away and Sam heard Dean sniff.

“But, like I said, I can do something. I don’t care that Simon killed my grandfather - this was never about revenge. I wanted to bring Simon peace and a real chance to redeem himself.

“So, I don’t know when I’ll be back… and I admit it: maybe I’ll be looking for some choice alchemical ingredients to bring with me. I’ve always wanted to hunt a griffin. But if you could look after my chest, the Chevy and my bike that would be appreciated. Please don’t chuck the werewolf paw either...

“You don’t have to wait for me. Just, for your own sakes - please - forgive each other a bit more. Kay? You’re brothers and I know some horrible, horrible shit has happened between you, but please: try to get past that?

“I love you Sam and I love you Dean. I’ll be fine, so please look after each other.”

Y/N leaned forward and the video ended. Sam wiped at his face furiously, pissed off at the tears that wouldn’t stop crawling down his cheeks. Dean straightened up. Sam looked at the cell and exited the video, found Y/N’s photo album, and then he opened it. Inside were dozens, upon dozens of photos, from selfies to cleverly angled shots, she’d taken of them together or of friends.

Karen standing in a disco pose, one finger raised high into the air. One at the start of the date at the steakhouse, with Sam and Y/N stood outside. A sneaky picture of the old couple Sam had been dared to approach. Dean working on the Impala. Cas stirring cake batter. Jody pulling some kind of hilarious face. Sam with his nose deep in some big old book. The game of Risk they’d never finished playing. Dean and Sam smiling with beers in hand. Crowley laughing in the front seat of the Chevy, stopped on some desolate stretch of highway.

“There’s a picture,” Sam said, his voice thick, “of Crowley laughing.”

Dean wiped his eyes and took the cell from Sam. “Ha, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that bastard laughing. Maybe we can bribe him with this or sell it to Abbadon… I wonder what Y/N said to make him laugh that hard.”

“Who knows.”

Dean put the cell down on the table and began to pace the room. “Sam…” Sam knew what that voice meant.

“Dean, I know what you’re thinking and no: Y/N can handle herself. If she’s drinking Elixir like she says she is, then she is not going to be on the menu. I doubt even Leviathans could stomach her.”


	6. It’s Quiet

Returning to the Bunker, settling back down into their routine - or rather, Dean’s routine of pouring over anything that might have something to do with Abbadon, the Mark of Cain or the First Blade - didn’t make Dean feel any better. The Mark was like a dull sting on his arm and often he wondered how it would have felt had he been the one to kill Simon.

One night, during a brief moment of sleep, Dean had dreamed about that night in the abandoned mall. Dreamed of wrestling Simon to the ground and shoving a pipe in his mouth to make him smoke the cure. Dreamed of Y/N hugging and kissing him, her gratitude undying, because he had helped her.

Another night, as he slept lightly, his head cradled by books, Dean had envisioned a nightmare in Purgatory. Y/N was running from Leviathans and they were immune to her blood. Finally one caught up with her and-

He’d woken up screaming so loudly that Sam had rushed to him, gun in hand. And then there were the endless nightmares about the Mark, of doing things he didn’t even think himself capable of.

Of course the inevitable phone call to Karen had gone about as well as it could have done, considering. But Dean hated being the one to tell her what had happened.

Still, Dean was doing his best to be nicer to Sam and he’d noticed his brother warming to him a touch more. But things hadn’t gotten that much better between them. The balance and link that Y/N had provided between them was gone and Dean couldn’t bring himself to discuss Y/N with Sam. Anytime he tried to open his mouth to even bring forth the tiniest mention, the words died in his throat, the muscles constricting as he tried not to sob.

It was bad enough when he heard Sam crying in the privacy of his bedroom. And when Dean had tried asking for the game of Risk to be cleared away, Sam had said no. Had said that they would finish it when she got back.

The game was Sam’s little shrine to Y/N.

And in the garage, her red Chevy convertible and her bright green Kawasaki motorcycle were getting as good a treatment as Baby. When the books and booze got too much, Dean would wander into the cold, cavernous space and check things over, maybe give them a run if needs be. But whenever he sat on the driver’s seat of Y/N’s motorcycle, his hands would long for the feeling of being held around Y/N’s waist, taking a corner at an impossible speed, the bike vibrating beneath them. Throbbing with life.

*

Clearing out his room one morning - because no matter how bad things got, Dean acknowledged that he was not a pig - he shifted a pile of dirty clothes and a small cloth pouch had rolled out of them. Gingerly, Dean had picked it up and sniffed at the fabric, catching the hint of lavender inside.

He placed the pouch down on a chest of drawers and sat down on the edge of his bed. Controlling his breathing, he tried desperately not to cry. Not to feel. Not to remember.

But all of it came flooding back to him.

And when he howled out in pain like a wounded animal, which brought Sam bursting into his room, topless bar the sweatpants he’d warn to bed, Dean couldn’t stop himself hollering and crying. His whole body shook and nothing his little brother said could soothe him as his body shuddered and he let himself feel as much as he had before he’d convinced Gadreel to help.

In the end, Dean had just let Sam grip his right shoulder and sit beside him as he let it all out. But after a few minutes, Sam couldn’t hold back his own sense of loss and had stormed out of Dean’s room. Through his own tears, Dean thought he heard something hit a wall and when, later, the pain had lessened and he’d finally emerged from his room, he found a hole in the wall near Sam’s room that was about the size of Sam’s right fist.

That night, Dean left the Bunker proper for the first time in a week and had gone down into town and the nearest bar, Sam on his heels. The two of them had started on beers, but quickly moved to shots. They’d even did a round of purple nurples with at least a dozen locals and no one asked what masks they wore, though the sorrow was clear, and they had slammed the potent sticky liquid back like it was ambrosia.

And somehow, somehow, one of the regular’s had pulled out the bar’s karaoke machine and Dean sung. He sung his fucking heart out. And Sam had laughed and clapped and there’d been some very warm faces, as Dean worked his way through American Pie.

The night air was cool and welcoming as Sam and Dean finally stumbled out of the bar, laughing and crying, waving goodnight to the the few remaining patrons who were being given the heave-ho as the bar finally closed. They stumbled their way up to the Bunker, but before Sam could unlock the door, Dean looked up to the dark night sky - teeming with stars and so vast - and put an arm on Sam’s shoulder.

“What… Dean?”

“Just, just look… would you?”

Dean waited for Sam to follow his gaze.

“That’s a… lot of… stars,” Sam slurred.

“Indeed it fucking is.”

“Why are… we looking… at stars?”

“Because… we’re not alone, Sammy... we’re not alone.”


	7. Simon

Once upon a time, Simon Johnson had lived happily on a ranch near a town. His family had been large and they had loved him. Loved him so much. They ate raw meat for dinner, but let their children lead lives as normal as they possibly could. Drilled responsibility in day and night - to keep quiet. Almost smothered them with love. Simon had been content and happy.

And he had been going places. When he was about to finish college, alongside his long-term girlfriend, Y/N, everything seemed like smooth sailing, despite Simon’s secrets. But one trip back home had been enough to finish that.

It was the time in the back of his old Volkswagen that had made Simon think that he needed more from his relationship with Y/N. He’d been passing as human for so long and it had just seemed wrong to have kept this part of himself from Y/N all this time, when he could join her to him in more than just name and need.

But the pack wouldn’t let you just turn someone and Simon was well aware that his parents hoped that he’d grow out of his fascination with the alchemist’s granddaughter. As Y/N nibbled his right ear and then slowly pulled him down on top of her, her scent overwhelming his senses as she rubbed herself against him, Simon had tried to figure out what he should do. And then he realised that maybe he could become human.

“Simon, is something wrong?” Y/N had asked and Simon had just smiled and attacked her with kisses, burying his thoughts for later.

Yet in the coming hours the thought had persisted. Had gnawed away at him until he remembered the small miracles that Y/N’s grandfather had worked over the years. So of course it was only natural for Simon to seek out Y/N’s grandfather...

“I can’t help you,” Y/N’s grandfather had said when Simon finally sought him out in his store.

“You must be able to do something?”

“There’s nothing to be done! You should leave, now. And don’t see Y/N again.”

“I’m doing it for her! There must be something you can do! You make a dick grow two inches over night, surely-”

“Do you think me careless, boy? I know as soon as Y/N finds out what you are, it’ll break her heart, but there’s nothing I can do.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“If there is a cure, it’s beyond me.”

“Bullshit! You just don’t want me to be with Y/N anymore!”

“It’s not like that, Simon. Not at all! Please believe me!”

The blur of pain and blood that had followed had always only been a distant memory to Simon, as he never had full knowledge of what he did when he turned. But when he’d returned to his family, to his pack, Simon realised the full weight of what he’d done when he was banished.

But the hunger that ached in him from then on was just as powerful a reminder. No longer able to satisfy his hunger with the hearts of other beasts, he’d picked off people he could get away with. Moving frequently, growing his own little pack.

To be confronted with a cure was the last thing that Simon had expected to have happen in Dallas. And he thought Y/N and her shadows would have just dropped his ass rather than offering him the so-called cure - again. But it had been the beast within him that had rejected a sign of hope before he could respond.

Now, as he sat in the branches of a tree in a landscape that wanted him dead, pretty certain that he was dead, the memory of the silver bullets still fresh though his time there had seem unending: Simon regretted his life. Regretted everything. Wished he’d never made friends and eventually gone out with the old alchemist’s granddaughter.

He longed for his pack, not the monsters swarming the landscape around him. Even though he was one.

The light was different here and the smells less heady. And the hunt eternal. Constant and unnecessary.

So when he caught the scent of something familiar, drifting up through the branches, Simon wasn’t sure what to believe. Wasn’t sure what had come for him now, because it wasn’t possible.

What revenge could be sought here? What hope of salvation could be left?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for Blood and Gold.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has left kudos and comments over these 12 parts. This started out as my first ever fanfic and I have learned a great deal while writing it.
> 
> I hope you have all enjoyed reading BG as much as I have enjoyed writing it. As ever, if you wanna get in touch off of AO3 you can do so over on my Tumblr: [Dreams from the Bunker](http://dreamsfromthebunker.tumblr.com/). My ask is always open to Supernatural prompts and requests, plus general questions.
> 
> I'm already planning my next big Supernatural fanfic, but it's going to be pretty different from this. And I've got a few smaller more conventional SPN fics heading this way. So hit subscribe if you wanna keep up-to-date.
> 
> Again, thank you :)


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